There were apparently others in the house, however, and the shots drew them to this location. Their feet and flashlights gave them away, and Mae hid in the shadows once more, using similar techniques to take each one by surprise as he came into the room. She had seven unconscious men down by the time the house truly and finally stayed silent. Someone still might have gotten out a call for backup, or the power failure might’ve automatically done so. Regardless, Mae wasted no more time and began exploring the house. She tucked the gun from the salon into her belt and took one of the fallen men’s gund to hold in its place. She also retrieved his flashlight but didn’t turn it on yet, instead relying on ambient light from the moon outside. She didn’t want to give herself away as the others had done.
The house was the height of luxury, even by Gemman standards. Passing through opulent bedrooms and parlors, Mae wondered how much time the Grand Disciple spent here and how much entertaining he did. She also wondered if this was all paid for by priestly salary or “contributions” from followers. But although each room was furnished with rich fabrics and artwork, she saw nothing like the staff that had been described to her. Conscious of the time passing while the girls waited for her, Mae was nearly ready to call the mission a failure when she flung open what seemed like a bedroom’s closet door and found— another door.
A glowing panel on the door showed her that at least one part of the house was using a generator. After a little bit of study with the flashlight, she discovered the panel was a palm reader. Apparently, the Grand Disciple would take no risk of anyone guessing a code. Knowing she couldn’t forge his palm, she studied the panel and door frame, looking for any sign of a power source that she might disable in a similar way. She found nothing, meaning it was too well-concealed or possibly kept in another part of the house. Before she could decide whether to go after it, she heard more voices and movement.
“Sir! Don’t go in until we know what happened here. Someone could still be inside.”
“If they are, I know exactly where they’ll be,” said a voice Mae recognized. “You—come with me. The rest of you check the remainder of the house and call someone to get the power back.”
Mae’s heart rate sped up. The Grand Disciple was here. From the sound of it, his arrival might very well have been coincidental, meaning his retinue might be small. It didn’t sound like it would stay that way, and Mae intended to leave before the others showed up. As it turned out, however, the place the Grand Disciple knew any intruder would be was the very room she was in. He and a guard appeared in the doorway before she could get out. Mae froze as a flashlight illuminated her, and the guard trained his gun on her.
“Don’t move!” yelled the guard.
“Don’t shoot him,” warned the Grand Disciple. His eyes were wide as he studied Mae in the flashlight’s glow. At first, she thought he’d recognized her but soon discovered something else had caught his attention. “Who do you serve?” he demanded. “Who sent you? I’ve never felt power like this . . . not here in my own country, at least . . .”
Mae didn’t dare answer, not when her voice would possibly give away her identity and most certainly her nationality. She didn’t want to bring trouble to the other Gemmans. Knowing her speed was superior, she fired on the guard, moving at the same time to make sure she was out of the line of fire of any return shot. Before he’d even hit the ground, she grabbed hold of the Grand Disciple who put up zero resistance as she dragged him to the closet door. Maybe he was too stunned by this turn of events . . . or maybe he just didn’t know how to overpower people without the full force of his office.
She forcibly pressed his palm to the scanner. It turned green, and the door unlocked. As soon as she had it open, she slammed him down hard, so that his head hit the wall and he slumped to the ground.
On the other side of the door, she saw a small room containing only a table. And on that table was a golden staff with an eagle perched on top, just as she’d been told. Mae sprang for it and heard a voice croak out behind her: “You’ll never be able to touch it. You’ll—”
Her hand closed around the staff, and a shock ran through her, like static electricity. The staff shimmered before her eyes, then twisted and changed shape. Moments later, she was holding not a staff but a torc, an open-ended neck ring worn by ancient Celtic and Nordic peoples. It was still made of gold, but rather than an eagle, the torc’s two ends now displayed dragon heads.
The coat she wore had large pockets, and Mae carefully tucked it inside one. Her blow was keeping the Grand Disciple down, but he was still conscious enough to stare in gaping disbelief. “How . . .”
Mae stepped over him without a word or glance. She could hear a commotion in the rest of the house and knew more guards were coming. Rather than go back out through the house itself, she used an end table to break the bedroom’s window and create an escape onto the roof. Not looking back to see if she was being followed, she darted outside and managed to deftly leap over the various eves of the lodge until she found a low enough point to safely drop to the ground. If anyone had followed her, none would be able to conduct that roof walk as skillfully, which gave her a lead. And as she ran off into the woods, two cars pulled up in the house’s driveway, showing her that for now, at least, the attention was on the house.
Pumped full of adrenaline and emotion, she ran back to the van in nearly half the time it had taken her to get to the house earlier. All the girls were still inside, many recoiling in fear when she burst in and immediately started the engine. “We have to get out of here,” she said, as though her frantic actions didn’t make that clear.
She tore off for the main highway, knowing that if she could do it without passing anyone on the lake’s road, they’d be safe. If there were more responders coming, her van would be suspect, fleeing from the scene. Either luck or the knife’s goddess was with her because she made it back to the highway, heading south toward the junction without incident. Mae didn’t allow herself hope, though, until she reached the westbound road going off into the Arcadian wilderness. Even then, she didn’t entirely relax but knew that she had eluded immediate pursuit from those looking for whoever had robbed the Grand Disciple’s lodge. For all she knew, however, patrols were out monitoring these roads in search of the salon’s raider. Even if no one knew a Gemman woman had attacked the salon, the word might still be put out that kidnappers were on the loose in a van matching this description.
But as one and then two hours passed, Mae saw no signs of pursuit or patrol. Either no one monitored these hinterlands, or else she’d been too fast for her crimes to catch up with her. Mae was starting to think she’d actually pulled off the impossible—twice—tonight when the van began to sputter and tremble. Mae felt the motor choke up and finally stop altogether, forcing her to guide it off to the road’s shoulder.
“I knew this thing sounded bad,” she muttered, staring bleakly at the instrument panel. Cecile leaned toward her.
“I think it’s out of gas,” she said, pointing toward a dial aimed at the letter E.
“We haven’t been on the road that long,” protested Mae. “Even with the detour.” Admittedly, she hadn’t checked the fuel gauge when setting out. She hadn’t thought to. Gemman cars, even most of the manual ones, ran on solar power or highly charged batteries. Those that did use fossil fuels were so efficient that she would’ve expected even half a tank to last longer than this. The cars themselves also would’ve told her if they were running low on fuel. “I don’t suppose there’s any way of knowing where we could buy gas,” she said. They’d passed a place on the main highway when starting out but had seen nothing in some time.